


How to Give Up and How to Get By

by sweetenoughandfaraway (ihavelovedyoubeautifully)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Advice, Chaptered, Closeted, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavelovedyoubeautifully/pseuds/sweetenoughandfaraway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles knew what it was to love someone. </p><p>He also knew what it was to fall apart. It wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t a release, and it certainly wasn’t easy to hide.</p><p>-</p><p>Harry/Louis. In which certain people in Harry’s life try to help him in their own different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Prologue_

Maybe this was finally the breaking point. Maybe he’d been pulling apart at the seams for two years, and the time had come for him to face the fact that he was unmade.

It was the little things that were breaking him, chipping him away piece by piece. The way his hand always felt so _empty_ without those small, warm fingers wound through his; the tangible hole beside him where he wasn’t standing; the anguish of having to watch that single tear fall down his face on stage and not being able to kiss it away.

He wanted their world at home to be enough; he really did. He wanted the sloppy morning kisses and the burnt breakfasts and making love on the kitchen floor to last him through the day. But it didn’t, and it couldn’t. It couldn’t calm the storm inside of his chest, the storm begging to burst from every pore of his skin and proclaim to the world that he belonged to Louis Tomlinson, and Louis to him.

His voice was silenced to the world outside the bars of his cage. And he was tired of screaming.


	2. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Being able to express how you feel about the person you love is a beautiful thing. But being a couple in the world of fame isn’t. What I’m trying to tell you, Harry, is that this…” she gestured around the room, “… is your and Louis’ _sanctuary._ No one can take this from you. Who you are, here in this house, belongs to the two of you, and only the two of you."

_i. Sanctuary_

            When he heard the soft knock on the door, he was expecting it to be Liam. Louis would have simply opened the door, Niall’s knock would have sounded like a series of enthusiastic gunshots (possibly accompanied by some sort of Irish drinking song), and Zayn always tapped out a funky little riff on the wood. 

But when Harry murmured a soft “Come in,” and the door opened, the person who stepped into his room was none of his four band mates.

Perrie smiled at him, noting his taken aback expression. “Sorry to barge in.” She carefully closed the door behind her and leaned against it with her lips pursed, thinking for a moment. She looked like she had just gotten back from a gig – She was wearing a fancy violet-colored dress and she had flowers woven through her hair.

Harry’s throat suddenly grew very dry. Is Perrie was here, did that mean something was wrong? Was Zayn all right?

“I was hoping we could… talk, for a moment,” she said, gingerly stepping a little farther into the room.

“Sure. Er… Is Zayn with you?”

“He’s downstairs. Can I… Can I sit down?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” He scooted over on his bed (which he had thankfully made this morning) and she sat down, letting her purse drop to the floor.

“I’m sorry if this is strange. I just… Zayn is worried about you, Harry. And most of the time, in these types of situations, he knows what to say. But this… Well, he thought it would make more sense coming from me.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Perrie. In fact, Harry quite adored the girl. She was funny, nice, and she truly was the perfect complement to Zayn. But this sounded like the beginning to a deep conversation, and he and Perrie had never really been _that_ close.

“All right. Go ahead,” he murmured, nodding to her in encouragement.

“Harry… I know you’re hurting. From not being able to be open about what you and Louis have.” 

Harry’s breath stopped in his throat. Zayn could have easily told her, but he had a feeling that even Perrie had noticed how much he’d been unraveling in the past month.

“I can’t really imagine how hard it must be. But I do know what having your relationship be completely public feels like, Harry. And let me tell you… In this world, some things are better private. At least for a while.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Anything was better than this hell of hiding. Couldn’t she see that?

Perrie sighed, folding her hands in her lap and looking down at them. “When I first started seeing Zayn, I didn’t really have any idea what I was doing. The label pushed us together, and I knew that seeing him would get Little Mix the publicity it needed… but we were both clueless and scared. It was hard to act like a couple back then because we were still figuring out who we were _alone_ ,” she laughed then, looking up him with a sad smile.

“But one night, he invited me over to his place… And well, that was all it took. He was charming and romantic. He made me laugh and when he looked at me, I felt like maybe this could be more than just a publicity set-up. Every day I fell more in love with him, and every day it got harder. The paparazzi were there wherever we went. There were constant articles coming out about him cheating and quotes that we never said about each other. Every day, our relationship became less ‘ours,’ and more something just for public consumption. We had no place we could just _be_. Even when we were alone, behind locked doors and windows, there were still articles coming out and the cameras were waiting outside to catch us.” She paused for a moment, pursing her lips and looking over at him with glassy eyes.

“Being able to express how you feel about the person you love is a beautiful thing. But being a couple in the world of fame isn’t. What I’m trying to tell you, Harry, is that this…” she gestured around the room, “… is your and Louis’ _sanctuary_. No one can take this from you. Who you are, here in this house, belongs to the two of you and only the two of you. If… when… your relationship goes public, they’re going to try to take it from you. And I never want what you and Louis have to stop belonging to you. Because I know that it’s real, Harry. Everyone who’s seen it does. It’s a real and beautiful thing, and the world will try to ruin it. I know it’s hard, watching him with Eleanor and wanting it to be you. But if you can just think of this as your sanctuary, and remember that right now, your love doesn’t belong to anyone else but the two of you, I think it’ll be easier for you to get by.”

And it’s funny how fast walls can be taken down in a relationship, because suddenly Harry was crying and Perrie’s arms were wrapping around him and all he could smell were flowers. He squeezed his eyes shut as the tears he’d been determined to lock away finally slipped down his face.

Somewhere in the twenty minutes of his breakdown, he heard the door open, and the familiar smell of cigarette smoke filled his nose as the bed dipped down beside him. The tears didn’t cease, even as Perrie rubbed his back and Zayn whispered reassurances. But Harry realized something more important: his chest didn’t feel so empty. In fact, he felt something warm. Something he might even dare call faith. 

_Sanctuary._

* * *

“Lou?”

The lights were off and Louis was bundled up in the covers like a little caterpillar. Harry’s insides twisted guiltily. It’d been a particularly “Elounor”-heavy week, and he knew he’d been avoiding Louis… and he knew that Louis knew it. Last night Harry hadn’t even come to bed, opting instead to sit on the couch and watch Titanic alone for the umpteenth time. Not surprisingly, Louis had been “out” all day so he didn’t have to deal with Harry’s distance, and Harry hadn’t even known he’d come home. 

He crawled under the covers, nestling against Louis’ warm little body. Louis stirred and after a few moments, he spoke.  “I thought you weren’t coming to bed again,” he whispered, and he sounded hurt. Harry’s grip around him tightened.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lou. This week… I’ve just been going mad. And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Louis stayed quiet, but he reached up to lace his fingers through Harry’s. “Can you talk to me about it now?” he asked softly.

Harry smiled and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Louis’ neck, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin. Then he sighed. “Perrie came to visit me today.”

“As in Zayn’s Perrie?” Louis’ soft voice asked. Harry nodded against his skin and Louis turned to look at him, his interest piqued. “Was he with her?”

Harry shook his head. “He came later. I guess there were some things he wanted to say to me, but he felt like Perrie would do a better job of it.”

Louis shifted so that he was completely facing Harry, his eyes glinting in the darkness. “Well, now I’m interested. Tell me about it.”

“It was a surprisingly… eye-opening chat, actually.” Harry smiled at Louis, carding his fingers through his hair as he continued, “She told me how hard it’s been for her to have such a public relationship with Zayn. And how it was never really private for them, and that every day their relationship became less ‘theirs’ and more… I dunno, something just for the public. And she told me… That what we have, it’s still _ours_. And that this house is our sanctuary. And she knows that what we have is real, and she doesn’t want to see the world ruin it.” He took a deep breath, looking down at Louis, who was staying very quiet. “I’ve been awful lately, Lou, I know. I’m sorry. But it’s because you can’t be mine out there. Out there, you’re Eleanor’s, and I’ve just felt so helpless because I want to be able to kiss you and hold your hand whenever the hell I want. But maybe Perrie’s right. Maybe, for now, it’s better this way. We don’t have to worry about the world taking this away from us, because they don’t even know about it. We have a sanctuary that they can’t touch." 

He finally exhaled and looked down at Louis, whose expression was unreadable. Harry’s fingers stilled in his hair, suddenly afraid that he was upset.

But then Louis’ face was breaking into a smile and he was pulling Harry down to kiss him. Harry very nearly sighed in relief as Louis’ hands buried themselves into his hair, their mouths moving against each other in that lovely, familiar rhythm. He relished the feel of Louis’ warmth against him, intertwining their legs and pulling him as close to himself as physically possible, trying to show him how sorry he was and how much he had missed him.

Maybe things were going to be okay. Harry could fall apart every once in a while, as long as people like Perrie would be around to give him hope, and Louis would be waiting to pick up the pieces.

After a few moments of pressing their foreheads together and just breathing, Louis whispered something.

“Sanctuary… I quite like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an idea I've been toying with for a while. I actually got the idea when I saw a gif of Liam smiling at the name "Larry" on Tumblr, and I realized that Harry/Louis have got to have a hell of a support system. I really wanted to involve the girlfriends somehow, too, just to make things interesting.
> 
> As I have planned it, there is going to be seven parts, with each chapter focusing on a new person and a new sort of lesson/piece of advice. The focus will start to shift from Harry's struggles to Louis' about halfway through.
> 
> This fic hasn't really quite developed into what I want it to be yet, but please leave your thoughts!


	3. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was quiet for a moment, looking out across the park again. “I imagine on some days, it must be pretty much impossible for you not to give up. But he’s worth it, isn’t he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tara. :)

_ii. Believe_

Things got harder before they got easier. Harry knew as much.

Nothing about the meeting was subtle. His managers had already worked out a deal with hers and he had absolutely no say in the matter. Before he could even blink, he was in the park holding hands with “America’s Sweetheart” wondering how the hell things could get any worse.

She wasn’t terrible company; it’s just that they had absolutely nothing to talk about. The rehearsed smile was making his cheeks ache, his hand was sweaty from holding hers, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Louis sitting at home watching all these pictures popping up.

They walked around for a while before finally sitting down on a set of stone steps, which gave them an excuse to stop holding hands but put more pressure on them to make it look like they were still having fun. The fake laughter was starting to get unbearable, so Harry decided to take a chance at making a conversation. If they could just find _something_ to talk about, it would be a million times less painful.

“Have you ever written a song that you didn’t actually relate to?”

His question was sudden and quite loud, and she jumped a little in surprise. He grimaced but nonetheless turned to look at her for an answer.

Her eyes were bright with surprise and curiosity. “Why are you asking?”

“Just curious, ‘s all,” he answered gruffly, folding his hands and looking down at the ground. Well, so much for that. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the wind rustle the leaves of the trees.

“No. I haven’t.” Harry turned to her, surprised that she had even bothered to answer. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, looking out at something in the distance. “I have to believe in every song I write. If I didn’t, I’d be a liar. And I don’t want to lie to anyone. Inside of anything I’ve ever written, there’s a piece of me. The day I stop believing in these songs is the day my career will be over.” She was quiet for a moment before turning to look at him. “This industry would have broken me a long time ago if I didn’t believe in what I’m doing.”

They sat looking at each other for a few moments, a silent recognition passing between them.

“What do you do when you feel like you’re losing faith?” Harry asked softly.

Taylor’s eyes closed for a moment, thinking. When she opened them, they were bright with an unexpected understanding.

“I sit down and remember my journey. The day I fell in love with music. The first song I ever wrote. The first time I heard my voice on the radio. I sit there and remind myself why I’m really doing this—because I _love_ it, with everything I have, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.” She was quiet for a moment, looking out across the park again. “I imagine on some days, it must be pretty much impossible for you not to give up. But he’s worth it, isn’t he?”

Harry’s head snapped over to look at her. He hadn’t been informed that they had _told_ her. He thought all she knew was that it was a publicity set-up. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything,” she said softly, without looking at him, “But if I’ve learned anything from my experiences, it’s that most wonderful things in this world, the things truly worth having, never come easily. And if you really love something, don’t _ever_ stop believing in it, and don’t give it up for anything.”

Her words, once they sank in, seemed to ignite a spark inside his chest that had long ago flickered out. He breathed in sharply, the sudden realization that he was alive _,_ and in love with someone who was waiting for him at home right this very moment, hitting him full-on.

“Could we head back now?” Harry asked, hardly able to contain his eagerness to get home. 

“Definitely,” she answered, a knowing (and slightly relieved, Harry thought) smile playing on her lips. 

* * *

“Lou?” Harry asked as he unlocked the front door and threw his keys onto the side table. He listened for a response but got nothing. Was he out?

“Louis?” he asked again, peering around the corner into the living room. His stomach immediately dropped at what he found.

Louis was nestled in the corner of the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was wearing comfy sweatpants with a beanie thrown over his soft hair, and his eyes were red and lifeless as he gazed unseeing at the muted television before him. His laptop was lying halfway across the room, almost as if he had thrown it.

Harry was next to him before he could even think to breathe, reaching out to take him in his arms, but Louis wouldn’t unfold himself to allow Harry to hold him.

“Have a fun time?” Louis asked softly, his voice cold and bitter.

“Of course I didn’t, Louis. You _know_ I didn’t. Come here, would you?”

Louis shook his head, refusing to budge from his spot.

Harry exhaled shakily, his eyes stinging. He hated when Louis put up this wall, mostly because they both knew that Harry would beat himself bloody trying to break it down.

“What can I do, Louis?”  Harry asked, his voice cracking, “What can I do to make this better?”

“Tell me a lie.” The answer was flat, and Louis still wasn’t looking at him, but Harry knew this was a step in the right direction.

It was a game they had started way back when things started getting bad, around the time Eleanor walked into the picture, to try to make things seem better than they really were. The point was to tell blatant lies, the exact opposite of what you actually mean.

Harry sighed, nodding and leaning back against the couch. “It was the best date of my life,” he began in a monotone voice, “I had so much fun. I listened to every single thing she said with great interest. I didn’t think of you once.” He paused, his eyes prickling. “And I certainly didn’t type out 44 different text messages to you in the car on the way there.”

Louis’ red eyes turned to look at Harry, who had pulled his phone from his pocket. His drafts folder was open, and there were indeed 44 drafts, all addressed to Louis.

His lip quivered as he took the phone from Harry and scrolled through the drafts. “44, eh? You found that many ways to say ‘I’m sorry, I miss you, and I love you?’”

“I could find a million different ways and it wouldn’t ever be enough,” Harry replied honestly, his hands itching to reach out to touch Louis’ skin, but knowing that now was a time to respect his space.

“You big softie,” Louis whispered quietly, the phone slipping from his hands as he uncurled himself to wrap his arms around Harry, pressing his lips to Harry’s in a tender kiss. Harry let out a little sob at the contact, so relieved to have Louis, _his Louis_ , back in his arms. The sound must have made something inside Louis break, because soon his hands were anchored in Harry’s curls and salty tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“I love you,” Harry whispered every time their lips broke apart, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Louis pulled away after a moment, pushing back Harry’s hair with a fond, watery smile. “I love you too. And don’t you go forgetting that you’re _mine_ , no matter who’s holding your hand,” he whispered, encircling his arms around Harry possessively and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Harry’s.

Harry smiled, his hands slipping under Louis’ bum to pull him onto his lap. He leaned in, his mouth tantalizingly close to Louis’ lips, and whispered, “I’m yours.”

“Yours,” Louis echoed, pressing his body down into Harry and stealing another deep kiss from Harry’s lips.

Sometimes Harry felt like he was losing his mind when Louis kissed him. It was like he lost all sensation of anything around him, and his senses all went into overdrive to focus solely on _Louis_. The crystal blue of his eyes and the shadows his eyelashes made on his cheeks; the feel of his fingernails dragging across his scalp; the subtle smell of his cologne; the taste of his tongue, often mingled with a light tang of alcohol; the sound of Louis sighing his name, or simply _breathing_. These things combined were enough to completely overwhelm him, and soon he was ungluing himself from Louis, determined to make the declaration he had been holding inside since he’d walked through the door.

“Lou,” he began softly, bringing his hands up to Louis’ face, his thumbs lightly stroking his cheekbones, “I know things are shit right now, and will continue being shit for the next three months. But I want you to know that you’re… you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve never believed in anything more than I believe in you and me. And no matter what I have to do, you’re worth it all, and I’m not going to give up. I’m going to keep fighting. For you, for me. For us.”

Louis paused for a moment, his eyes on Harry and his expression unreadable. Then a small laugh escaped from his lips. “You wrote a mushy song about me with her, didn’t you,” he said incredulously, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Harry sighed, his head falling onto Louis’ shoulder. “I try to wax poetic about my love for you and you tease me,” he pouted, sniffing.

He felt Louis’ hand come up to softly card through his curls, and then warm lips were pressing themselves to his temple. “You take my breath away sometimes, when you say things like that,” Louis whispered against his skin.

“‘You take my breath away,’ huh? Who’s writing mushy songs now?” Harry joked, but only half-heartedly. Louis smiled and rolled his eyes.

“In all seriousness,” Louis said, his eyes sliding back to meet Harry’s and his hands coming up to frame his face, “I’m in this 100%. So no matter who you’re with or what you’re doing, and vice versa, know that I love you, and I’ll _be_ loving you. Always.”

Harry had thought that he would get nothing from his arrangement with Taylor Swift except misery and a further ruined reputation. But he did get something, something wonderful, and it was this moment. This tender moment with Louis, pouring out the contents of his heart in offering—so when things got bad, or it all became too much, Louis would always have Harry’s words to hold on to.

She was right. The things, and the _people_ , worth having often did not come easily. But he wouldn’t give up. No matter how awful things might get, it wouldn’t matter because he’d never stop believing. Louis was worth the fight, and he always would be.

That night, as they were crawling into Harry’s bed, he sent one quick text before he switched off the light.

**To: Taylor Swift**   
_Thanks._


End file.
